The memory stays. 1973. I wanted a Buick LeSabre wagon. My dad showed up with a Chevy Suburban painted olive drab. No fake wood. No styling. Just a box. He called it a “truck.” I was eight. I hated it. 📦
Dad knew what he was doing. The wagon held half the cargo. The van crumpled like paper in a head-on smash. The Suburban just stood there. Tall. Commanding. Safe.
People got the memo. Sales tripled. From 36k in ’73 to numbers that dwarf the old market. Why? Tow capacity. 10,000 lbs if you spec it right. A Jeep Grand Cherokee maxes at 6,700. Minivans? A third of that. Plus resale. Five years later, a Suburban is still worth 60% of its cost. A ’91 Mercedes wagon? Down to 44%.
But you pay for this fortress in fuel. 13 mpg in the city. Minivans sip 17-19. Smaller SUVs manage 14-16. Still. People buy it.
GM sat on this throne alone for decades. Until they got competitive with themselves. In 1995, Chevy launched the Tahoe. A shortened Suburban. Less truck. More car. Then Ford arrived. With the new Expedition. Based on their fresh F-series chassis. Suddenly the monopoly was dead.
So we grabbed three. 1996 Chevy Suburban. 1996 Tahoe. 1997 Expedition. Light-duty four-wheel drive. Prices between $32k and $36k. The ’97s have five extra ponies. So what.
We skipped the twisty mountain roads. Went to the flatlands. Indiana and Ohio. We even went to a speedway in Winchester where locals pronounce “bijou” like “bye-joe.” 🏁
We tried off-roading too. Drove north to Silver Lake. Michigan dunes. The Tahoe peeled a tire off its rim. The Expedition’s 4WD system just… stopped working. Ford hadn’t diagnosed it yet. Then at the Chrysler track? We blew a brake cylinder on the Suburban. Caustic fluid everywhere.
So much for “tough.” Let’s look at the drivers.
3rd: Chevy Suburban K1500
Big is the name. Big is the middle name.
The turning circle? 47.8 feet. That’s seven feet wider than the Ford. You park by maneuvering back and forth like you’re backing a freight train into a slot. The steering feels like steering a boat with a broom. Mushy. No feedback. You step through an inch of pedal sponge before the brakes even think about grabbing.
Acceleration? Surprisingly decent. 10.4 seconds to 60. The 5.7L V-8 has 250 horses. It moves the weight. But does it handle the weight? Not really. It pitches. Stomach-lurching on bumpy roads. The heavy springs helped on the sand dunes—this beast climbed the 200-ft hills better than the others.
Space is king here. 150 cubic feet if you yank out the third seat. Takes one minute. No tools. 32 feet more cargo than the others. Seats? The middle one is basically a pedal car perch. The rear seats actually work, even for three people.
“Unwieldy… but it’s the ticket if you have a load too big for anything else.”
If you’re hauling a boat, or the cast of Baywatch to the beach? Take it. For everything else? It’s numb.
2nd: Chevy Tahoe LS
Chevy tried to make a person-friendly truck. They cut the Suburban. Shorter wheelbase. Shorter length. Lower roofline. Even shorter people can climb in without leg surgery.
It doesn’t ride better. It just rides quieter. Car tires help. But the steering? Still dead. Lifeless. Though you don’t correct it as much because the turning circle shrunk by nearly five feet. Noticeable.
Cargo takes a hit. Same payload rating, less bulk. No third-row option. If you need six seats? You’re out. But the engine feels lighter. Freer. 0-60 in 9.8 seconds fastest of the three. Passing takes six seconds from 50 to 70. A big deal on two-lane roads.
Fuel? 16 mpg over our trip. Disastrous. But best in class. The seats are flat. Benches masquerading as buckets. “Am I going to slide out?” one driver asked. The interior lacks art. It lacks joy. It works.
“Suburban lite. Less filling.”
It’s sensible. But the numbness follows the platform. You’re driving a truck wrapped in vinyl.
1st: Ford Expedition XLT
Ford changed the game. Trucks got smart. The Expedition sits on the same bones as the new F-150. Car-like handling. Car-like refinement.
This feels different. Immediate steering. Minimal body roll. One editor called it driving a car. Another agreed, though he missed the Tahoe’s silence. It handles tight corners better than its size suggests.
It isn’t perfect. Snap the wheel during a lane change and the power steering freezes for a split second. Dangerous if you aren’t careful. Emergency handling is fuzzy. It posted the same slalom time as the huge Suburban.
As a hauler? Strong. Tows 7,400 lbs standard (up to 8k). The 4WD transfer case is smart. Directs torque forward when wheels slip. But on the sand dunes? The street tires lacked grip. Worse traction than the Chevs until the system quit.
Power is adequate. 230 hp 5.4L V8 keeps it in the pack. Not a sprinter. But the brakes? Solid. Four-wheel discs. ABS. Stops in 216 ft from 70 mph. Nine feet better than the Tahoe.
Styling? If the Chevs are office buildings, this is the Chrysler Building. Bold. Snouty. Memorable. Inside? Soft lines. Better ergonomics. Except the parking brake. Located between the front seats. My 5’9″ editor smashed his ankle against it repeatedly. Sea-green interior was a crime too.
It wins on features though. $34k got us a power seat. Rear A/C vents. Roof stereo controls. A CD changer. Air suspension included.
“Big sport-ute without the clumsiness.”
We are car guys. We prefer precision over payload. The Expedition delivers balance. Steering, ride, towing, and looks all meet in the middle. It wins not because it’s the strongest or fastest, but because it doesn’t feel like an apology. 🏆
Is that enough to change the Suburban dynasty? Maybe. The door is cracked open. Ford kicked it wide.
